The Ambassador's Mission: Book One of th - By Trudi Canavan Page 0,99
abductions. Some – mostly women – believe they are a society made up only of women, because it is women in difficult and unfortunate circumstances they most often take. I suspect it is a rumour to encourage cooperation from their victims, and the real reason for stealing the women is to sell them into slavery, here or in some other country.”
Dannyl felt a chill run down his spine. “What do they want with Lorkin, then?”
“I’m not sure. Sometimes they meddle in politics. Usually with bribes or blackmail, but sometimes by assassination. The only gain I can see for them in abducting Lorkin is embarrassing the king.” He frowned, thoughtfully. “Unless they want to stir up a war between our countries.”
“Surely they would have killed Lorkin if that was their intention.”
Achati’s expression was grim as he met Dannyl’s eyes. “They may still intend to.”
“Then we have to find them quickly. Are there many west-leading roads to Tikako’s country estate?”
The Sachakan didn’t answer. His expression was of distracted puzzlement. “Why tell us?” he said.
“Who?” Dannyl asked.
“The slave girl. Why did she tell you how to find Lorkin if she is a Traitor? Is she trying to put us off the trail?”
“Perhaps the Traitors aren’t involved, and want to avoid being blamed for Lorkin’s abduction.”
Achati’s frown deepened. “Well, it is the only clue we have. Decoy or not, we have no alternative but to pursue it.”
The road to Tikako’s country estate bore a constant stream of traffic, forcing Lorkin to follow Tyvara’s advice and not speak in case his Kyralian accent drew attention. He could not ask her where they were going, or question her more about her people, or the people who had tried to kill him. His skin itched from the dye that coated it. She frowned at him disapprovingly if he scratched it, and kicked his ankle gently if he forgot himself and looked directly at the people they passed – even the slaves. This was immensely frustrating, and made the slow pace of the cart, hauled by an ancient-looking horse, almost unbearable.
From time to time he stole a glance at her, noting the tension in her body and the way she chewed at her lip. He could not also help admiring her near-flawless brown skin. It was the first time he’d seen her outside and in sunlight, rather than in the glow of lamp or magical globe light. Her skin had a healthy sheen and he found himself wondering if it would be as warm to touch as Riva’s had been. Then the inevitable memory came of Riva’s dead, staring eyes and he’d look away.
Tyvara is a dangerous woman to be attracted to, he mused to himself. But for some reason the mystery that surrounds her, and not knowing how powerful she is, makes her even more alluring. Still, this is not the time to be losing one’s wits over a woman. There’s a real danger I could end up losing more than my wits.
It was on the third day of travelling when she finally muttered to him that they were about to arrive at their destination. The sun was hovering just above the horizon. He felt a relief that they wouldn’t be sleeping in the wagon again, but it quickly evaporated as she told him what he must do next. They would enter another estate, where he would have to pretend to be a slave. They would eat and sleep there, but she didn’t know what they would do after that until she’d made contact with her people.
This would be a more risky test of his disguise. She’d instructed him to say no more than necessary, to keep his eyes to the ground, to obey without hesitation or protest, and to stay in the shadows if he could.
Nodding at a gap in the wall ahead, she told him to steer the cart horse toward it. It was a little odd for a female house slave to be accompanying a delivery slave, so the excuse they had come up with was that she was showing him the route and teaching him to drive the cart because no other slave could be spared. He’d enjoyed the driving lessons, despite not being able to ask many questions for fear of being overheard.
They made it through the gap without mishap, though a corner of the cart brushed one side of the wall. Lorkin looked ahead at the buildings. Figures moved among them – all slaves judging by their clothes and mannerisms. As